


hint of a spark

by Anonymous



Series: MY ONE PERSON CRUSADE TO PROVIDE TMA FANS WITH NICE THINGS AGAINST ALL EFFORTS OF CANON [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Trans Male Character, didn't realize how bad I needed cocky Jon til i wrote him, my brand of ace jon is ok w touching others but not w being touched, so thats what this is!, that's pretty much the whole plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21866920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "We don't have to," Jon clarifies. "I just thought you might enjoy it."Martin would very much enjoy it. "It's just - it wouldn't do anything foryou.""Not in the way you mean," Jon agrees. "But… Making you feel good… I think you don't fully understand how intoxicating that is for me."
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Series: MY ONE PERSON CRUSADE TO PROVIDE TMA FANS WITH NICE THINGS AGAINST ALL EFFORTS OF CANON [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573123
Comments: 44
Kudos: 1139
Collections: Anonymous, Rusty Kink





	hint of a spark

**Author's Note:**

> slaps my own specific breed of asexuality onto Jon and releases him into the wild. Parkour
> 
> (same author as the other fic in this series! I just feel weird about people getting "guess who wrote SMUTTTT" in their emails)
> 
> [original prompt:](https://rusty-kink.dreamwidth.org/1380.html?thread=46692#cmt46692) _Jon/anyone with a vagina, cunnilingus. Look, there's just something about him that convinces me he'd be excellent at eating out. Bonus points if he's aware of this skill and is smug about it in a very Jon way._

"You're - you're sure about this?" Martin asks, for maybe the millionth time.

"As long as you don't try to get in  _ my _ pants," says Jon. Martin, who is well acquainted with Jon's tendency to martyrdom, squints down at him anyway, where he's settled between Martin's legs.

He  _ looks _ relaxed. More than he usually does, actually. He's in a t-shirt and sweatpants (and it still tickles Martin pink, seeing Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist in sweatpants), dreads pulled back into a ponytail. It is a Sunday morning, overcast through Martin's bedroom window. They've spent a significant portion of the weekend in this bed, and a significant portion of  _ that _ kissing. One of those luxuries Martin allows himself, being as the rest of the world is getting scarier and scarier. Jon is cross-legged, hands resting on Martin's spread thighs and rubbing slow circles with his thumbs in a way that's honestly kind of distracting.

He's also watching Martin right back. As their eyes meet, he cocks an eyebrow at Martin, with a smirk lurking around the corners of his mouth that can only be described as  _ smug. _ Martin mumbles something indistinct and covers his face with his hands, but he can't hold back his flustered smile at Jon's low chuckle.

There is the usual dizzy delighted amazement at the reminder that all this is requited. There is also the fact that, since Jon figured out exactly how aching attractive Martin finds him, he has had absolutely no qualms about  _ using _ it. When Martin peeks through his fingers, Jon gives him a small, superior smile and then opens his mouth and runs his tongue over his lips. Slow, pointed, deliberate.

Martin whines at him incoherently. Jon's smirk melts into a real laugh at that, warm and curling, and Martin loves him so much it  _ hurts. _

"We don't have to," Jon clarifies. "I just thought you might enjoy it."

Martin would very much enjoy it. "It's just - it wouldn't do anything for  _ you." _

"Not in the way you mean," Jon agrees. "But… Making you feel good… I think you don't fully understand how intoxicating that is for me."

His voice gets low at that last part. Martin kind of quivers.

"So…" Jon inclines his head towards the general region of Martin's boxer briefs. "If you'll permit it?"

_ "Yeah," _ Martin breathes, hoping the squeak is sexy and not just, well, dweeby. "Oh - wait, um, this obviously hasn't come up before, but - I don't like, uh, penetration." He waves a hand vaguely. "You know, fingers or otherwise. Uh, a trans thing."

"Understood." Jon drops a kiss on Martin's thigh, just above the knee. "You'll tell me if there's anything else, yeah?"

"Course."

Martin is, embarrassingly, already kind of wet. Something about how Jon has been teasing him and stroking his inner thighs and talking about going down on him for twenty minutes. And his briefs are light grey and they're all he's wearing besides his binder and Jon's got his legs spread so he  _ knows _ it's showing.

But Jon doesn't just dive in. Instead, he leans down and kisses Martin, deep and overwhelming.

They do a  _ lot _ of kissing, so Martin starts relaxing a bit. He loops his arms around Jon's shoulders and kisses him back, open-mouthed but without tongue, surging up against him and then back without ever really breaking contact. This is gentle, it's relaxing.

Jon's hand sneaks down between them, fingertips settling against Martin's briefs and tracing his lips  _ painfully _ lightly. Martin stops being relaxed. Jon hums like he  _ knows _ and then takes Martin's chin in his other hand, gently pushing his head back to bare his neck. Martin squirms, feeling kind of pinned.

Jon bites his neck. Martin  _ moans. _

He  _ feels _ Jon's huff of laughter. It's actually that - the sardonic arrogance - that gets Martin's hips bumping up against Jon's hand. Maybe, he decides, his tastes are kind of messed up.

Jon doesn't give him much more pressure, of course. He keeps his touch butterfly-light as Martin tries, ineffectually, to chase after it. Instead, he just takes his time mouthing at Martin's neck and collarbone. He sucks a whole patchwork of hickeys over Martin's skin, working him up hotter. With difficulty, Martin keeps his breathing steady.

"You're quiet," Jon observes against the shell of his ear. He sounds a little surprised.

"I - I'm not really noisy, in bed." It's true in practice, if not theory - Martin doesn't like making people listen to his voice. He tilts his head, trying to get Jon's teeth back on him.

"Hmm," says Jon, and bites his ear at the same time that he presses his knuckle into Martin's clit. Martin bites back most of his whimper as his hips jerk. Jon is watching carefully, though, and he laughs, low and pleased. Martin swallows.

Jon kisses him a lot more, taking his time. All over his shoulders, down his stomach, lingering at his hips. He certainly doesn't seem to feel any urgency about how Martin is shifting around more and more. Just keeps rubbing, with a little more pressure but nowhere  _ near _ enough, at the increasingly damp patch between Martin's legs. At one point, he does stop nibbling at Martin's hipbone to slide his free hand up the leg of the boxer briefs. Martin's breath catches, but Jon just spreads his lips wide, letting the cotton cling to every crevice. And then he withdraws and returns to his teasing only it's a  _ million times worse. _

"Oh,  _ c'mon," _ Martin breathes. He holds back a needy noise, hands fluttering somewhere around Jon's head.

Jon kisses at the crook of his thigh and finally,  _ finally _ starts giving him a little more speed and pressure. Martin's so damn sensitive by now, he jerks up against him, head spinning between the touches of Jon's fingers and the mouth on Martin's thigh. It's  _ maddening, _ Jon's lips and warm breath so close to where Martin needs him - so close - fuck,  _ Martin _ is close, oh, god-

He barely has time to clap a hand over his mouth before he's  _ gone, _ shuddering against Jon's hand. He vaguely processes Jon's surprised noise, mostly focused on his fingers still massaging and drawing out the hot pleasure, all the way down to the tips of his toes.

Embarrassment follows almost immediately afterwards. Martin's barely finished before he shoves his face back into his hands. "Oh, jesus, Jon, I'm so sorry - it's always been too quick, since I started T -  _ oh-!" _

"'Quiet,' hmm?" Jon murmurs. He presses his thumb into Martin's clit again. Martin jolts all the way up off his pillows, cursing in surprise and sensitivity.

"I - I mean, I usually-" Martin swipes his tongue over his lips. "…Jon?"

Jon isn't looking suddenly lusty or anything, but he  _ is _ staring at Martin with the focused fascination that, unfortunately, Martin  _ knows _ Jon knows Martin finds hotter than hell. "If you wouldn't mind… I don't think I'm quite done with you, yet."

Martin bites his lip. "I - I mean if you want to - I certainly wouldn't be  _ opposed-" _

"Mm?" says Jon. "Then let's get these off you."

Martin lifts his hips to let Jon pull down the briefs. A little string of wetness comes with them. Martin flushes. Jon lets out a  _ heh, _ and Martin grumbles a weak retort. Jon just hums a smug little hum, tosses Martin's underwear off to the side, and bends to start licking up Martin's slit.

Martin manages to keep his noises down, but only just. Jon is licking him clean from his first orgasm, thorough and methodical. Martin has to grab fistfuls of his sheet, fingers clenching and unclenching, trying and failing to stay quiet. Jon's tongue slips into his folds, lapping from his entrance up to his clit with the flat. Martin twitches, trembles. He's  _ really _ sensitive, but Jon is deft and talented with his tongue, and it's quickly turning into the better kind of  _ too much. _ He lets out a shuddery sigh and lets his head fall back onto his pillows, hips rocking up to meet Jon's mouth. It's comfortable, the kind of slow, simmering hot that builds and builds.

Jon presses the tip of his tongue into Martin's clit. Martin lets out an "oh!" before he can help himself, and his legs clamp together around Jon's ears. He's apologizing before Jon even says anything - "sorry, sorry, just -  _ really _ sensitive-"

"Good sensitive or bad sensitive?" Jon interrupts.

"Uh-" Martin ducks his head. "Good, but - I, er - sorry."

"Well, then." Jon nods. "Don't cover your mouth for this, will you?"

"Oh, you-" Martin begins, indignant at the arrogance oozing from his voice. But then Jon holds Martin's legs down to the bed and starts sucking on his clit, and Martin can't  _ help _ his cry. He keeps his hands at his sides, gripping his bedsheet for dear life, but it's  _ hard, _ so hard, with Jon working him over, holding him spread wide and vulnerable. Jon licks circles around his clit, prods and teases at the hood. Martin whimpers, lets out a few soft curses. Jon wraps his lips around Martin's clit and sucks at him in a rhythm too quick for Martin to keep up - too quick for him to hold back his soft  _ mmm-oh! _

The pull and release of Jon's lips distracts him before he can think to be embarrassed. Jon starts licking at his slit again, fast and forceful. His thumbs are stroking at Martin's thighs in an unconscious reflection of his tongue. Martin whimpers, rolls beneath him. His legs are starting to shake. "Oh -  _ oh _ \- Jon, I'm -  _ really _ close again, I-"

Jon goes to work on his clit again and Martin comes all over his chin. He lets out a long, shuddery moan as Jon keeps sucking, riding out the waves of heat pulsing through him. "Oh -  _ Jon-" _ As he starts to come down, he pats somewhere at Jon's head, voice stumbly.  _ "Ah _ \- Jon, Jon, I already-"

Jon pulls away long enough to say, perfectly composed, "I know." And then he goes right back to eating him out again.

Martin kind of chokes a little. Jon's still got his legs pinned, and he wouldn't dare try pulling him away, so he can't really do anything but try not to break Jon's teeth with the jerk of his hips. He's way,  _ way _ too sensitive, so turned on it's nearly blinding and Jon  _ just keeps going, _ licking and sucking with a ruthlessness that would be terrifying if it weren't so damn  _ hot. _ As the last waves of orgasm fade and the oversensitivity really starts setting in, Martin cries out, overwhelmed. "Oh,  _ oh, _ oh my -  _ god, _ Jon, I'm-" Jon gives his clit a particularly hard suck.  _ "Ah!" _ Martin is quite sure he'll be mortified later, but right now, he doesn't have a stray hope of holding back all his noises.

To his utter surprise, it does not take him very long. He's already a puddle beneath Jon, and despite being on his third orgasm in maybe forty-five minutes, none of this has gotten any less wickedly hot. Martin's barely past that aching wonderful oversensitivity when he shudders apart again, weak and limp and moaning.

Jon comes up for air with Martin's slick shiny down his chin, smugness dripping off him along with it, as if Martin is supposed to just  _ handle _ having that image in his head now.

"You've done it," Martin croaks. "You've killed me."

Jon laughs and releases his thighs. Martin sprawls back, floating.

Dimly, he becomes aware that Jon is moving up next to him. He comes back to himself a bit at that, because if there's one thing more consistent than Jon wanting to cuddle, it's Jon being unable to ask for it, and Martin is nothing if not proficient in the care of his Archivist. He turns onto his side and gently manhandles Jon into his chest. Martin isn't actually much taller than Jon is, but he always big spoons anyway. Likes feeling able to shield Jon from, well, everything.

Jon never seems to mind, at any rate. He wriggles into Martin, the fabric of his t-shirt and sweats pleasant against Martin's bare skin. Martin kisses the nape of his neck and murmurs, "Thank you."

Jon hums a little. Martin can  _ hear _ his smile.

He lasts about 30 seconds before bursting out, "Also, you're a  _ cocky little-" _

Jon starts shaking with snickers. "I think I've earned it, Mister 'I'm not noisy-'"

Martin, who can feel the heat rising to his cheeks, starts squeezing Jon's sides to quiet him down. It doesn't strictly work, as he's fairly sure the majority of Jon's snorty laughter is at his expense, but, well.

Being as he's enjoying his afterglow with an armful of laughing Archivist, Martin isn't really about to complain.


End file.
